Someone Else
by Polly Gator
Summary: Set after the episode Ranma The LadyKiller. There are dancing monkeys and cookies and it all happens at around 3:45 in the morning. Mindless RA.


This is an old story that I cleaned up as much as I could. It's not very good, and I know there are plenty of stories out there revolving around the same basic structure (Ranma and Akane… reveal things. At night. Thrilling.) that are better written, but Ranma ½ will always remain close to my heart, so here it is anyway.

Timeline: Right after the episode Ranma The Lady-Killer. For those unfamiliar with that particular episode, Ranma falls under the influence of a magic band-aid which causes him to act like a ladies' man, hitting on every girl in sight, including Akane. (And Kasumi, which was way more amusing, but that has little relevance to this story)

Warning: this fic goes absolutely nowhere. What it is is completely gratuitous R/A. Read at your own risk.

-

_This is it, _Ranma Saotome thought miserably, turning over fitfully in his futon. _This is what it feels like to be dying of humiliation. Of all the things I've put myself through I can't believe this is what does me in: a stinkin' no-good band aid._

A blush burned his face for about the hundredth time that night as he fought to find sleep. But all he accomplished was rehashing the day's events through his mind – for possibly the millionth time – and once again letting the numbing mortification at his own actions consume him. Again.

Groaning, he turned over and buried his face in his pillow. To his right, a panda snored, heedlessly.

He had come on to Shampoo. He had come on to Ucchan. He had come on to _Kasumi_. That alone caused him to shudder at his own gall. True, he was under the influence of a powerful (_AND STUPID!_ Ranma insisted in his head indignantly. _A powerful but totally stupid_) aphrodisiac at the time, but dammit he was the best martial artist in all of Nerima, Cologne and Happosai be damned. Even if he hadn't known, didn't he have any more control over his actions than THAT? What sort of weak puppet did that make him? A child could have pulled that one over him. What those girls – his _friends_ – must have thought…

And Akane. Oh, Akane.

The worst part was that it was all so clear to him. Now, Ranma was no stranger to doing stupid things. That facet of his personality defined much of his life. And he was used to dealing with the consequences of his (usually unintentional) stupidity with a cloak of indifference: because he didn't know it had happened when it happened, it was harder to feel guilty about it (Because why did some of these people wait YEARS before telling him that he had wronged them in some way? What was that about?), and he therefore did not have to take full responsibility. Pushing the Frog Man into the Jusenkyo spring. Becoming engaged to Ucchan. Ryoga and P-chan. Kissing Akane while under the Nekoken. The list went on and on and on.

But this… this was different. He remembered running up to Nabiki when everybody else was occupied, holding her hand and saying her name. He remembered taking that group of girls to the park with his arm slung over some girl's shoulder… a girl he didn't even know. He remembered almost kissing Shampoo on that rowboat. He remembered wondering fleetingly what the hell he was doing, but he also remembered the euphoria… sheer euphoria from being around a female.

_Is that what it feels like to be Happosai?_ he wondered, in terror. _Holy crap, I was Happosai for a day. I should be hanged._

Perhaps it was all the band aid's fault. In fact, it _was_ all the band aid's fault. The girls all knew that now. They'd all forgive him for it. Chances are they probably already have.

But he would still have to face them, and _remember_. Remember Shampoo's and Ucchan's glee at going on a date with him. Remember Nabiki's startled face and Kasumi's blank look. Remember the hope that had flashed so keenly on Akane's face when he had…

Ranma turned over and stared at the ceiling. Akane was another deal entirely. She had been almost totally silent after they had dusted themselves off of the sand pile they had landed in after the scuffle with Ucchan and Shampoo and started to head home. It was unnatural for her, but then again he hadn't said anything either. He wondered what she must have been thinking. He wondered if she was mad. She hadn't seemed mad, but he wondered if she was anyway. That girl could be totally unreasonable sometimes.

And stupid. God, could she be stupid. Throwing herself in between Ucchan and Shampoo like that? What the heck did she think she was going to accomplish?

The more he thought about it, however, the more he had to wonder at her motivations. "What about how Ranma feels?" she had exclaimed incredulously, before throwing herself into the line of fire. As if the prospect of marriage without love was too preposterous to even fathom.

Yet here she was, engaged to him. Not by her own volition, of course, but still. He wasn't sure if this was good news or bad news for him.

And he could not think about that anymore, not again. The implications of it, the weight that that one sentence carried… he couldn't deal with it. It meant having to face a whole multitude of emotions that he didn't really want to face right now, all at once, because if there was anything Ranma knew from his limited experience in this field, it was that he was really horrible at dealing with his emotions. There was the rare occasion that he got it right. But most of the time he got it wrong.

And this was Akane. He could not afford to get it wrong.

Ranma blinked at the ceiling, and remembered something else. He was grounded. She was too.

Okay, maybe she was definitely mad at him.

Deciding that four and a half hours of tossing and turning was way more than he really wanted to experience, Ranma found himself sitting up in the dim moonlight. _I'm not going to get any sleep tonight,_ he thought resolutely. Maybe a workout would clear his head. Or a walk. Or a meal. He quietly slipped downstairs.

He was mildly (but not totally) surprised to find Akane sitting in front of the television in mismatched pajamas, a plate of cookies on her lap and a glass of milk in her hand. Her gaze was unfocused, but she was facing the TV. Perhaps she was thinking, too. Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned against the open doorjamb and contemplated her.

"As if you aren't fat enough already without all the midnight snacking, Akane," he said plainly.

She barely batted an eye to acknowledge him, and shoved a cookie into her mouth. "Good to see you're back to normal, you sexist, sexist pig." Her retort was clipped but not angry, so Ranma took that as a good sign. He moved to sit next to her, and she scooted slightly on the floor to make room for him.

"What are you watching? It's three in the morning."

"Monkeys doing aerobics. Cookie?"

"Did you make 'em?"

"There was a box in the kitchen."

"Oh."

He took the proffered cookie, and downed some of her milk. On the screen, awkward brown shapes were making synchronized movements with their arms akimbo and their fur askew. Ranma exhaled loudly through his nose.

"Couldn't sleep?" he heard her ask.

"Not a wink. You?"

He felt her shake her head. "Nope. And we've got to get up for school tomorrow."

The monkeys continued to dance.

Soon, the cookies were gone and so was the milk; and the monkeys ceased their dancing. Up next, the disembodied voice from the television informed them, was a very special documentary on how to make your own paper, right in the comfort of your own home. And after that, Narame Onee-chan's Early Morning Insights.

Akane clicked off the television, and the two of them sat in silence. Around them, their home was still and dark.

"You mad?" Ranma asked suddenly, his voice breaking the quiet. He found himself unable to look up at her so he played with the drawstring of his pants. In his peripheral vision, he saw her stiffen slightly.

"About what?" she asked.

"'Bout today."

She huffed lightly and laid her elbows on the table, cupping her chin. A frustrated-sounding sigh accented her answer. "I don't know, Ranma," she mumbled through her breath. "I don't know anything right now."

Resisting the urge to comment on her intelligence, Ranma mimicked her posture and turned his head towards hers, to study her. She blinked at him slowly, but not in the blank vapidness of her oldest sister, but with a tired wariness that told him that a misplaced joke right now could potentially wound her. Badly. He marveled at her openness, and wondered if it was the lack of sleep or the aerobercizing monkeys that had softened her countenance, and made her appear more trusting. He wondered if she was always this trusting.

"Are you mad?" she countered quietly, eyes still soft.

"Me? Why?"

She suddenly seemed to find a spot on the opposite side of the room very interesting. "Well… I was the one that put that band aid on you. And… you know… it was my fault we fell off that building…" Her voice trailed off and she nervously flicked her eyes back at him. "And… I don't know. Do you even remember any of that?"

Ranma swallowed tensely, eyes still locked on hers. "I remember."

"Ah," was all she said. Akane broke their gaze, and silence took over once more.

"I don't know if I meant any of it," he heard himself saying all of a sudden. Before he could stop himself, he found he was talking some more. "I want to say that I didn't know what I was doing, but I did. It was so _weird,_ Akane. It was as if my brain would just switch off when girls were around. How the hell that band aid knew is beyond me; it's probably… chemicals or some damn thing but it was like I was in stasis you know, like those butterflies in cocoons? Except it was me and I was in my own body and my body really liked girls… and wanted to do… _stuff._ And it was acting on its own like my brain was just—"

"You were drugged," she broke in, her face expressionless. "Right?"

"Yeah I was drugged! Do you think I'd really—"

"Well okay." She stood up abruptly, taking the plate and glass with her. "That's that, then." And she scurried into the kitchen.

There was no way in hell he was going to let her leave him hanging like that. Getting nimbly to his feet, he scurried after her. "Akane, what the heck's the matter with you?"

In the kitchen, Akane plunked the dishes into the sink and began to rinse them roughly. Ranma wearily threaded his fingers through his bangs and stood a good distance behind her intimidatingly taut shoulders. Her movements were jerky and she was getting water all over the counter.

"Akane—"

"What?!" she barked, not turning around.

"Nothing happened okay! I mean I hit on all those girls but nothing… like _that_… happened! The worst thing that happened was me almost kissing Shampoo but that happens ALL the time and this time it didn't even fall through so stop… stop being so jealous!"

That got her. Akane whirled around furiously, and glared at him. "Who's _jealous_?"

"Nothing HAPPENED!"

"I am _not_ jealous!"

"Well then you're doing a hell of a job pretending to be!"

-splish-

Akane flung the glass full of water at his face, and he promptly began to shrink. She shoved the glass at Ranma's now rather ample chest, and stalked past her. "You know what? Now I'm mad."

Thinking quickly, Ranma quickly grabbed a kettle and changed back. He dripped all over the floor but he bounded up the stairs and caught up with her halfway to her room.

"That was cheap," he said hotly, bringing himself to full height in front of her.

She straightened as well. "Yeah, well, so was accusing me of being jealous."

For a few moments, neither of them spoke as an uneasy truce was called. Ranma was becoming antsy. This was nuts. She was crazy! What the heck was she getting all bent out of shape for? One minute she was docile and conciliatory and the next she was all… _Akane_ about everything. No matter how many times her attitude shifted at him like this he couldn't seem to get used to it; him, a martial artist, who had to be attuned to the opponent's every move. Her mood swings were about as volatile as—

He shook his head and looked away from her. He didn't really want to fight. Wasn't he just thinking about how he couldn't afford to get it wrong with Akane? What the heck was he doing?

"We have to get up in about two hours," she said tersely, her eyes trained on the floor. "Maybe we should just try to get some sleep."

_You think I could sleep now?_

"Do you not want to be engaged to me anymore?"

Akane's eyes bulged, as did Ranma's. That sure came out of nowhere. It took him a minute to realize that it was he that spoke the words. Wow, he sure was doing that a lot tonight, talking without his brain realizing that his lips and tongue were forming words. For a martial artist he had quite some control over his bodily functions, that's for sure. What a joke.

Mentally, he kicked himself. _What the CRAP did you say that for?!_

"What?" Akane asked in a voice that trembled, and her brow knit with worry. Ranma felt sweat begin to pool at the base of his neck and quicker than he could blink, he began to usher her into her room.

"Uh, you know what? Maybe we should get some rest. We have that test tomorrow right? In geography… history… something. Haha! What do you know, it's four in the morning. Can you believe those dancing monkeys?"

"Ranma!" she protested, as he roughly shoved her into her dark room and yanked the door shut. He could hear her muffled voice call his name through the door, as he leaned back on it and breathed heavily. His panic had escalated, and his heart was beating like crazy. _Why did I ask her that? What's the matter with me? What the heck did I even say exactly? "Do you not want to be engaged to me anymore?"_

Did he really want to know the answer to that?

"Ranma?" she was talking to him, and soon he would have to deal with the consequences of his stupid, stupid, stupid mouth which seemed to have not learned yet how to listen to his brain. He took a deep breath.

"Yeah?"

"I'm going to open the door."

With a soft snick, the door was open, and he found himself face to face with a distraught-looking Akane, standing in the dark. She was lit only by the moonlight streaming in gently from her window, and somehow it made her seem smaller in her mismatched pajamas, like a little girl. Her hair was not exactly disheveled but it wasn't entirely presentable either, somewhere in between.

_She's pretty,_ he thought wistfully. _Why does she have to be so damn pretty?_

"Is that what you want?" she asked softly. He did not need to ask what she was referring to.

"I…" He averted his gaze, unable to think straight. It was rather ironic how, now that he needed words, his brain was completely failing him. "I… didn't mean to ask you that. I'm sorry."

"We have to talk about it _some_time."

"Does it have to be right now?"

"What if it does?"

His head snapped up, and he saw that she was completely serious. Once again, panic welled up inside of him. "Why? Why does it have to be right now Akane?"

"Hey, you asked _me_, all right?" she hissed at him, stepping across the doorframe and getting in his face. "I just… I… I need to know, Ranma. I should be asking you. I mean… you're the one with all the fiancées and, well, you know as well as I do that if there's any engagement you have the power to break…" her eyes shone. "It's this one."

An ache spread from somewhere inside his chest cavity all the way outwards: to his arms, the nape of his neck, his fingers and his toes. "Akane," he said softly. She was… she was… what? What was she doing? "Akane, it's not that simple…"

"But it is," she whispered intensely, and it was then that he realized that they were whispering. "You either want it or you don't."

"But…" he peered closely at her. "What if I can't tell you yet?"

The hurt that flashed across her face pierced through him like a lightning bolt. Shit. He was screwing it up. "Then I already know the answer," she said grimly, and gripped the doorknob. "Good night, Ranma."

"Wait." he said forcefully, stopping the door's path with his arm. "Do you even realize what you're asking me? You're asking me to make a choice Akane."

She gave him a baffled look. "Haven't you already?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Ranma!" her voice was frustrated, as if she had not expected this from him. "If you're in love with somebody else I'm not going to allow this engagement to get in the way of that okay! Don't you want to be happy?"

_Somebody else?_ He could see that she was giving him a look, but he could not for the life of him comprehend what she was trying to convey with her eyes. _Somebody else…_ hadn't they had this conversation already? Something like five hours ago? And he had cupped her cheek with his hand, and told her solemnly that she was cute, when in truth, she had been absolutely stunning. _Somebody else._

_Somebody… that wasn't her?_

The pieces were all there; of that Ranma was _positive_. What was he missing?

There was something he needed to know.

"Why did you get in the way of Ucchan and Shampoo like you did?" he said suddenly, taking her by the shoulders gently and giving her a tiny shake. "What did you think you were doing?"

"Huh?" she said, momentarily stunned by his sudden shift in focus. "What does that got to do with—"

"Everything," he said. "Tell me why you got in the way like that. Is it because you wanted me to marry you?"

"What? No!" she said indignantly, her face snapping up to his. "They were trying to take advantage of you, stupid! I was trying to save you from them!"

His face softened, and he realized what it was that he wanted to ask her.

"Why don't you ever fight for me, Akane?"

The look on her face was one of absolute distress. Ranma was quite taken aback himself, for he had never even realized that he wanted to know the answer to that. But something in him immediately jumped at the suggestion, and he realized that he'd been wondering about it all along. Sure she'd run a few battles that were related to him somehow, but she had always claimed that it was a matter of pride. Had she ever fought outright for his affection? Had she ever staked her claim on him as zealously as he had staked his claim on her?

And just as immediately, he knew the answer.

Of course she did.

All the botched cooking? All the pounding when the other fiancées got too friendly? All the relentless arguing and apologizing and awkward hemming and hawing over their emotions? All the times they had yelled at their fathers, yelled at each other, yelled at themselves? That was Akane, fighting for him. Even now, with her troubled eyes and imperceptible pout, she was fighting for him. She fought her own ineptitude. She fought the people that meant to interfere with them. She fought her own emotions. She fought his. And she did it all… all for him. He had never known such a beautiful friend.

Ranma gripped her shoulders just a little bit tighter.

"Ranma," she whispered, her eyes shining even more brightly than before. She spoke slowly, deliberately, as if she was trying to tell herself, too. "I fight for you every single day. Just because nobody ends up with a bloody nose doesn't make it any less of a battle. But I can't… I can't _compete_ for you. Ranma. It's not… I can't."

"Wh—" Did she even understand what she was saying here? "Why not?"

"Ranma…"

"Why _not_?"

"Because that's not how I want you to love me!"

Immediately after she said it, she clapped her hands over her mouth and backed away from his touch. She was now completely in the dark, her silhouette no longer outlined in the moonlight. He followed her slowly into her room and shut the door. Her eyes, or what little of them he could see in the dimness which surrounded her, were wide as saucers, and they slowly slipped shut after meeting his stunned gaze.

His blood pounded furiously in his ears. There it was. She had said it. They had been dancing around it all evening and look at that, there it was. She had actually said it. Ranma did not know what to say, or even how to react. He just stood there, in complete bewilderment, his jaw probably dragging against the ground, as Akane struggled to regain her composure.

There was little doubt now.

It was Ranma who came to grips with himself first, and he almost shook himself to clear his head. Akane looked devastated.

"Love… you love me?"

Her face shuttered, and her hands dropped. "I didn't say that."

"But you said—"

"I know what I said!"

He hesitated a little at her denial, but then decided it was too important to let slide so easily. "How do you want me to love you then, Akane?"

"Ranma, _please_…"

"Please, Akane?" he pleaded gently, once again stepping up close. He could see a single fresh tear track still wet on her face, and he reached up to thumb it away. "I think… I think I need to know."

Her eyes searched his for a long time. What she was looking for in there, he wasn't sure if she found, because all he could see was her fear, her insecurity, her doubt. He wanted to make it go away but he wasn't sure how to do it. There was a lot he had to say to her.

"I want you to love me for me, Ranma," she said earnestly, not once breaking eye contact. "I want you to want me… because you want _me_, your uncute sexless violent tomboy, because that's what I'll always be. I don't want you to be stuck with me because of my father's dojo or a trip to China. Not because someone's making you, or because you're obliged to, or because I won you in some cheap fiancée battle royale. And I _refuse_ to force you to marry me if you're in love with someone else, Ranma, because that's…" she shook her head, and looked down. "I don't want that for you."

Her words slid down his spine with a slippery, honey feeling, like warm goo. Every neuron in his brain was firing away, singing and giggling at his own dumb luck. She hadn't said the words outright, but that was okay, he heard them anyway. She wanted him to want her. She wanted him to love her… for her. It occurred to him then that this is what set Akane apart from all the other girls that somehow wove their ways into their lives. He knew that she was the only one that didn't chase after him actively and now he knew why, but there was something else.

She was the only one that cared about how he felt.

"What about how Ranma feels?" she had screamed before throwing herself between Shampoo and Ucchan. Nobody had ever asked him that before. Not his father when he dragged him to China or engaged him to half the population of Japan, not the other girls as they tugged and tugged at his arms trying to claim him for their own. Only Akane, in her own imprudent selflessness, wanted to know how he felt.

He thought back on the day and realized just how hard it must have been for her to see him like that, without knowing he was under the influence of anything out of the ordinary. Did she believe he had made a choice? Come to think of it, did she still believe that he…?

And here she was, inches from him, with downcast eyes and defeated posture. It occurred to him then that she probably did not even expect him to respond, and the thought of her ever feeling so dejected made his heart contract and his breath hitch.

The words came back to him.

_Someone else…_

She would give him up, if he did not want her.

Like there was a chance in hell of that.

Cupping her face, he tilted her face up to meet his. Another single tear glided silently down her cheek, and he was overcome by the open honesty that her eyes held now, that raw vulnerability that said to him 'I'm in your hands now, Ranma. Please take care of me.'

_Someone else?_

Slowly, pulling her to him, he put his lips to her face and gently kissed away her tear. "It's always been you, Akane," he whispered fervently against her forehead. "There's never been anybody else. You know that don't you?"

He felt a shudder pass through her, and he tightened his grip on her waist. _Of course she doesn't know that, stupid. How the hell was she supposed to figure that one out? _Her hands rested against his chest and she pulled away to look at him. There was that vulnerability, shining in her eyes, and there was her hesitation. She didn't know if she was going to believe him, which wasn't surprising, considering what had happened the last time she did. But her eyes told him that she wanted to; she wanted to very very badly.

So, he did what came almost naturally to him at that point, which was to slide his hand up to her neck and gently press his lips to hers. He hoped and prayed that this was what she needed, because as his mouth slid slowly against hers and he felt her eyelashes slowly flutter shut, he realized that he needed it too. He could feel her warm exhalations on his face, her hands clutching his night shirt, and the brush of her hair against his cheek, and all he could think was how right it was, how his chest clenched at the thought of her in his arms, how soft she was…

_I think I love you exactly the way you want me to._

There was no hungry melting of mouths, no erotic dancing of tongues or fancy technique. Neither of them knew how to do any of that yet. What was there was the sweet, tentative pressure of her slightly parted lips against his own, and the dead certain knowledge that nothing else in the world was important as long as his arms were full of Akane and her kiss met no one's but his own.

She pulled away all too soon, just when he was beginning to get acquainted to the feel and taste of her. With more than one final sip at his mouth, she looked back up at him with her flushed cheeks, wet mouth and heavy eyes. She was irresistible to him now.

"You kissed me," she breathed, her voice barely audible.

"You kissed me back," came his reply.

"I… I haven't really been kissed before. N-not like that, anyway."

For the millionth time that night, panic coiled deep in Ranma's belly. "Did you not like it?" he asked shyly. "I haven't _really_ kissed anyone either. I mean before now," he quickly amended.

Breathing somewhat heavily and sliding her arms around his neck, Akane drew her face up to his and sighed against his mouth. "Oh Ranma," she murmured, her lips plucking gently at his. "Do it again."

He did.

-

That was fun to write :) Rumiko Takahashi creates wonderful characters, but I think Ranma and Akane are my favorites.


End file.
